Have A Little Faith In Me
by Skylarcat
Summary: Cuddy's on a date. House interrupts. Has but one request; for her to have 'a little faith' in him.


**Title:** Have A Little Faith In Me  
**Author:** Skylarcat  
**Classification:** Huddy, short fic  
**Rating**: PG 13  
**Feedback:** Yes, please.  
**Summary:** Cuddy is on a date. House interrupts it. And has but one request…for her to have 'a little faith' in him.  
**Note:** House and Cuddy are characters that belong to David Shore, Fox Broadcasting, and Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions. Yes, I have used them without permission. However, no copyright infringement is intended. And I will return them intact and a lot more satisfied.

XXX

When your back's against the wall  
Just turn around and you're gonna see  
I'll be there; I'll be there to catch your fall  
Yes, I will be, just have a little bit of faith in me

'Cause I've been loving you  
For such a long time now, baby  
Expecting little in return  
Just for you to have a little bit of faith in me

I will hold you up, baby  
I'm gonna hold you up, baby  
Because your love, it gives me strength enough  
So have a little faith in me

-John Hiatt

XXX

Faith could be define as a fragment of light at the end of the tunnel; a reason to believe. Not based on evidence or truth, but rather a strand of hope; faith had never carried a purpose for him, until now. 

"House, why are you here…again?" 

The question suspended between them, thick with meanings and secret intentions. He pondered for a moment, considering the reason behind why he was indeed there in the first place. Then, he simply said, "You don't love him."

He watched as she glanced over her shoulder, in the direction of where her date resided, quietly drumming his fingers and throwing them not so subtle glances. And he had the sudden urge to smirk.

She turned her attention back to him, satisfied that her date was out of ear shot, and answered, "No. I don't love him, but I do like him." She lowered her voice to a level where only House would hear her next assertion. "And I like sex."

Out of pure instinct, he clutched his cane tighter; already feeling the blood leave his knuckles. Her words stung him, much like a bee meeting its target, silently wounding him. Somehow, he managed to keep his face void of any emotion, not wanting her to know she had earned a reaction from him.

"Don't," he whispered, not recognizing the sound of his own voice. There resided a different tone when he spoke the one word; almost a hush plea. And she had noticed.

Her face contorting into a confused expression; her blue-gray eyes expressing, what he could only describe as a hint of sadness, but only briefly, for then it was gone. Replaced with pure exasperation, she exhaled a breath. "Don't what?" She asked; her voice rising in pitch. "Don't sleep with him? Don't see him again? I'm not in the mood to play games. Go home, House."

This hadn't been his intention when he first decided to come here, to interrupt yet another one of her dates. To upset her wasn't what he had in mind. Then again, if he was being honest, he wasn't quite sure what his intentions had been, other then a feeling that bordered on jealousy, springing forth like a spring in an old mattress. Surprising even himself, he couldn't stop thinking about Cuddy on a date, on a date with someone who wasn't him. And without really thinking, or having a clever excuse, such as a case, to warrant his intrusiveness, he just interrupted her date.

To her credit, she regarded him like an open book, that he was once more playing a game at her expense. Perhaps it had been a game at the beginning, but not now. It was different, somehow deeper, and he hadn't been aware of when the change took place. But it had, somehow she snuck into his soul, became a part of him, so carefully that at first he failed to notice. Unaware that he should be pushing her away, like he always does when anyone got too close to him, until it was too late, and he just simply needed her; needed her there to challenge him, to argue with him, to be his moral compass. She was his conscience, though he would never voice such admirations. He always thought that she simply knew this. After all, she always managed to defend him, to stand beside him, and for whatever reason believed in him. 

This was their dance, their tango of sorts. He'd push, she'd give a little. He would insult her, she would rebuff. He would think he won, and then she would surprise him. He never envisioned himself with another dance partner, she was it, and the thought of her out on a date, seeking a new partner, scared the hell out of him. 

"I can't." He finally replied.

She sighed, and closed her eyes. "Why not?"

"I can't go home until you promise me that you won't sleep with him and you won't see him again." He stated.

She actually smirked then, crossing her arms, she asked, "And why would I agree to that?"

"Because I'm asking…" he paused, catching her stare, and for a moment losing his words.

She lifted a brow in questioning, and when he didn't continue, she simply said, "Go on."

He exhaled, releasing the breath he had been holding. "Because I'm asking you…I'm asking you to have a little faith in me." He glanced down sheepishly, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional confession. 

When he gathered the nerve to glance at her, he found her eyes fixated upon him like cool embers of a fire that never dies, burning with passion and understanding. She gave only a slight nod, no words, then again words weren't necessary. They always had this connection to speak to one another without the use of language. And with that nod, she rendered once more her faith to him; agreeing that he would be her partner in this dance that neither was quite sure how to define. But it was her faith, and that was something. And it would be enough…for now. 

The End!


End file.
